Blessop's Wife

Tyballis smelled sour wine and oozing damp, mould on old stone and mouse droppings. Sitting up hurt as her head pounded like thunder, but eventually she stood, reaching out to discover the walls. It was not as foul as Bread Street prison but it was far more frightening.

She was neither bound nor chained, but the freedom to explore her cage gave little benefit. The space was small, four steps in one direction, ten in the other. There were no windows, and the only door, thick oak and heavy-hinged, was locked. The walls were wet stone. The floor was beaten earth, and also wet. In a corner stood two large wooden butts, each empty but smelling of old wine. Several long shelves banked one wall, also empty. There was nothing else.

Soft woollen and fur-lined, her cloak – Drew’s gift – was her greatest comfort. Her jaw throbbed and she remained disorientated. Several hours passed as she slumped, trying not to cry. She forced herself to think how she might approach whatever happened next, and how she might extricate herself from the worst disaster since escaping her husband. Being sure this time that none of her new friends had been at the port to watch her abduction, she expected no rescue. Drew was gone. She would have to help herself.

It seemed a very long time later when the door was unlocked and creaked open, allowing light to flood in. She was immediately blinded. Throckmorton’s voice said, ‘Well, slut? Ready to talk?’

Tyballis squinted at the dark shape looming in the doorway. She croaked, ‘I’ll tell you anything you want if you let me out of here.’ Then she remembered her courage. ‘But first I need something to drink. You’ve probably broken my jaw, and if I die, Lord Feayton will kill you.’

‘He won’t have the faintest idea where you are, stupid bitch.’ Throckmorton stepped within the cellar’s gloom and peered down into her face. ‘But I’ll take you upstairs if you’re obedient. I have questions and I want answers.’

‘And then you’ll let me go?’

He sniggered. ‘We’ll see about that.’

It was someone else who grabbed her arm and hauled her from the cellar and up the stone steps. A narrow corridor led from the stairs directly into the hall, but she was marched away from this into a small parlour to the side. It was unheated, and one window, paned in thick green glass, let in a trickle of sallow light. The thickset man who had brought Tyballis upstairs now dragged her to face her captor. She stared into the baron’s angry eyes and tried to stand proud.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘Tell me about Feayton. Where is he? And exactly what else do you know about him?’

She had been thinking fast for some minutes. ‘Lord Feayton’s left London, my lord. He travelled west immediately after Christmas,’ she said. ‘He went to Wales. I believe he was invited to spend Epiphany at Ludlow Castle. He didn’t tell me why, or with whom. I am, after all, just a woman.’

Throckmorton seemed to find nothing wrong with this assertion, but he blanched at the news, and bit his lip. ‘Ludlow? By invitation?’

Tyballis gained confidence. ‘Yes, my lord. He left on the morning of St Stephen’s, taking a great deal of luggage with him and his squire and servants. He told me to expect his return within the month. You expect him yourself before the end of January, I believe. When we last met, I remember Lord Feayton saying he would be back to collect the monies that were due.’

‘None of your business, trollop.’ The baron glowered. ‘Let’s see what else you remember. When Feayton left you, did he mention whom he meant to meet? Did he mention Lord Rivers? Or any other name?’

Tyballis hid her smile. ‘No, my lord. Lord Feayton mentioned no one. He would not tell me such intimate details.’

‘Damnation, girl, do you ask nothing of the man?’ Throckmorton sat rigid, tapping his foot, hands gripping his knees. ‘Very well. Now tell me, and in detail, exactly what you do know. I’m not interested in rumour, nor bedroom fumbles, but tell me exactly how you met him, and what you know of his lineage, his family and his title. Who else have you met in his company? And where does he live while in London?’

Thinking fast, she frowned and said, ‘I don’t know much, my lord. I met his lordship after being arrested, when he got me out. Then he took me to a tavern. That’s all I know of him.’

Throckmorton scowled. He nodded at the other man who immediately boxed her ears. She winced, almost falling. The baron said, ‘Each time she lies to me, John, you will punish her.’ He turned again to Tyballis. ‘If you continue to annoy me,’ he told her coldly, ‘I shall have you stripped and thrashed. How dare you think me so easily deceived? Now, if you want to avoid punishment, answer my questions, and this time make sure it’s the truth.’

She believed his threats. She knew very well what Borin used to do for this man’s brother. ‘I’ve never met any of Lord Feayton’s friends,’ she said at once. ‘And I know nothing at all about his family. He never discusses his private business with a – common woman.’

‘Yet he got you out of prison. A woman he’d never met? Why?’

‘He’s interested in justice. Lord Feayton is a wealthy man, and friend of dukes. I don’t know any more.’

Throckmorton stood suddenly, gripping her chin between his fingers and forcing her to look into his face. The pain made her eyes water. ‘Feayton may be wealthy now, Mistress Blessop, from the money I pay him and whatever he steals from others like myself. But he was no friend of dukes when I first knew him. His clothes were old and ragged, his boots worn out. I don’t believe he’s a man of property. There are impoverished noblemen as I happen to know very well, and Feayton was one.’ He released her, stepping back again. ‘Now, tell me where this creature lives.’

Tyballis shook her head. ‘He doesn’t take me to his home, my lord. I’ve never seen it. He takes me to the tavern, when he wishes to – be with me. I told you, my lord. The White Rose, down by the river.’

The baron stared searchingly at her. ‘You’ve no home of your own since you ran from Blessop. Don’t tell me Feayton puts you up permanently at a respectable inn.’